


How Much To Give, How Much To Take

by thechemicalgirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:32:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechemicalgirl/pseuds/thechemicalgirl
Summary: "It's like...' he paused, trying to calm down. 'It's like after I came back from Heaven and we switched our bodies back, something has happened. I can't use my power anymore, not even to start the Bentley.''Crowley loses his demonic abilities and Aziraphale tries to help him cope with it, but things get much more complicated than that.





	How Much To Give, How Much To Take

Everything went just like they planned - Crowley has been sentenced to extinction in Holy Water, Aziraphale to death in the fire of Hell. Since both trials were executed and they came back to Earth with a reluctant promise that everyone, angels or demons would let them be, things were going better than ever. They didn't speak of what happened much, neither did they of the fact that Aziraphale basically moved into Crowley's apartment in a matter of two weeks after that, but the angel thought about it quite a lot. Sometimes he barely restrained himself from asking Crowley what it all meant to him, but he was also a bit worried he would hear something like "I didn't ask you to stay after your bookshop returned, did I?" in response. Which would be true, good Lord. Crowley didn't ask him to stay, but he chose to do it.

One rainy Thursday he went back to his bookshop for a while, to collect the rest of the food that he left there and also pick up something to read. Crowley, unfortunately, didn't own a single book except a copy of "Whitchcraft and Black Magic" published in the fifteenth century, which he claimed could be very useful at times.  
While gathering the books and newspapers, Aziraphale's mind wandered once again into the direction of their... relationship, as he couldn't think of another word to describe it. Friendship somehow didn't feel right anymore, and as he said back when Crowley wanted to run away with him, they weren't ever really friends. More like soulmates, but the more he wondered, the more ridiculous that concept seemed - an angel and a demon meant to be together? He kept trying to gather himself and talk to Crowley, and he felt like he was finally ready. If something went wrong, he could always use a bit of magic and miracle the conversation away from Crowley's mind.

Aziraphale left the bookshop after looking at it fondly one last time. That was his place for so many years, always warm and inviting, very different from Crowley's modern apartment. Thank Heaven that the demon agreed to some changes after he moved in - it started with small things, like a new rack for the books he brought with him, or a couple of lovely coffee mugs here and there, but a week later Aziraphale even managed to cover the leather couch with a soft blanket. Crowley didn't look exactly delighted at first, but the next evening angel caught him petting the fabric while they were watching a movie. He smiled at the memory; if all demons were as vulnerable as Crowley, Hell would be lost. 

The apartment door was locked and nobody answered his knocking, but Aziraphale had his own key. After he entered and put bags full of books and wine bottles down on the kitchen table, he loudly asked:

"Crowley, are you home?"

There was a long silence, before eventually a distressed voice replied: 

"Yes, in the bedroom."

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows. Crowley would usually teasingly say something like "why, missed me angel?", but today he sounded almost panicked. 

He stepped into the bedroom and found the demon sitting at his desk, in front of the computer that was now turned off, clear golden liquid spilled on the keyboard and dripping onto the floor. The smell of alcohol was strong in the air, and Aziraphale immediately recognised whisky. 

"What's happening Crowley? Did you hurt yourself?"

Crowley shook his head rapidly, turning to look at him. He had his sunglasses on, but Aziraphale could bet anything that his eyes behind them were wide and scared.

"I spilled my whisky," he muttered, shrugging, and the angel grew more and more confused with every second.

"Why didn't you clean it up then?"

"I don't have any paper towels or tissues left."

Alright, it was definitely true since the last time either of them went shopping was about a week earlier, but...

"Maybe you could just use your demon power and make it disappear, it's not like we are being watched by our head offices anymore," Aziraphale spoke, before carelessly waving his hand and cleaning the mess up himself. Crowley's breathing became more erratic, noticeably so, but he didn't say a word.

"Crowley, why are you..."

He couldn't finish his question, because the demon suddenly stood up, ripping his sunglasses off and looking at him desperately. 

"Do you think I didn't try it?! Of course I did, but I couldn't even turn the computer off using magic! It's like..." he paused, trying to calm down. "It's like after I came back from Heaven and we switched our bodies back, something has happened. I can't use my power anymore, not even to start the Bentley."

Crowley's voice was angry and panicked, so Aziraphale did the only thing he could think of at that moment - crossed the distance between them in two steps and wrapped his arms around him. They have done it before, a couple times, but never this tight and affectionate, and Aziraphale's mind literally went blank for a few seconds. He stroked Crowley's silky hair and felt his shoulders tremble, perhaps from suppressed sobs. 

"Did you realise you power was gone right after we switched back?" he asked gently, not sure if his attempts at comfort were helping. Crowley nodded against the crook of his neck, before rasping out: 

"I don't know how it's possible, you can still use your magic, right?"

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, humming in confirmation. He let go of the demon and took his hand instead, leading them to the living room couch. To his surprise, Crowley immediately pulled him back into an embrace when they sat down. 

"Look... did they do something to you when you were in Heaven? Other than trying to make you die in the fire of course?" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Crowley's head. He didn't know why he felt so brave all of a sudden, but it seemed to calm the demon down, so he did it again.

"I don't know... I was tied to a chair and Gabriel explained why I... well, you, were a traitor. Then they told me to get into the fire, so I did."

"Pretty much the same thing happened to me in Hell, but... I thought that maybe you lost your power as a result of trauma. You know, I realise that Gabriel is..."

"If anything caused trauma, it would be how much I worried about you," Crowley interrupted. "I wasn't scared when I was in Heaven, but I didn't know what they were going to do to you down there, they could have kept you in here for centuries, torture you..."

His arms tightened around Aziraphale almost unconciously. He was right; Beelzebub didn't have to kill him after all, she could have used him as an example for other demons, of what would happen if you betrayed Hell. 

"I'm fine Crowley, and I want you to be too, okay?" Aziraphale muttered. "Maybe we should get some sleep and talk in the morning, you look tired."

Crowley simply nodded, and within a minute it turned out that the angel was right - he passed out, head resting heavily on Aziraphale's chest.

***

Aziraphale woke up with an awfully stiff neck. Judging by 'Killer Queen' blasting in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee Crowley has already been awake for a while, so he got up to join him. When he walked into the room, he immediately noticed something was different. 

Crowley didn't have his sunglasses on, which was pretty unusual, even when it was just the two of them in his apartment. He also looked pale, and the strangest thing of all, he was sitting at the kitchen table, unmoving. He would normally dance around the kitchen, swaying his hips to the music and trying to cook something edible for breakfast. 

"Angel," he greeted quietly, attempting to smile. "I wanted to talk to you."

Aziraphale sat down opposite from him, grabbing one mug full of coffee and taking a sip. Crowley watched him for a moment before continuing:

"Last night I have been thinking a lot, and I realised that it's probably time to... explain some things."

The angel focused on him entirely now, his expression unsure and maybe a bit concerned. He opened his mouth slightly, like he was trying to say something, but couldn't get his voice out.

"I don't know how you haven't figured that out at least four thousand years ago, but I care about you more than about anything else, Aziraphale. I asked you to move in with me when your bookshop burned down, and I thought after all things we have come through you would understand that..." Crowley mumbled, a hint of blush appearing on his cheeks. He didn't finish the sentence, shaking his head in chagrin. "But you didn't. And I am sure that I've been reading your intentions wrong, so forgive me if I made you feel uncomfortable last night."

Aziraphale stared at him with wide eyes, and after a few seconds he stood up, walking over to where he was sitting. Crowley stood up as well, and for a moment the tension between them was almost unbearable, but then he quickly walked past the angel. He leaned against the counter and looked out of the window, his expression carefully blank.

"Do you think I am ever going to gain my power back?" he asked, leaving the previous confession hanging. "I mean... If it truly is caused by some sort of trauma as you said, it can't last forever."

"Crowley..."

"No, just tell me. You don't have to console me any more."

Aziraphale watched him hopelessly. He wanted to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, or kiss his cheek, something to make him feel better. Crowley's previous words kept echoing in his head. 'I've been reading your intentions wrong'? He should have interrupted the demon and explain everything, but it turned out he was too much of a coward. All he managed was:

"I have never seen anything like that before. Maybe if you work on it..."

He paused, because Crowley suddenly turned in his direction and literally hissed, eyes narrowing in anger. 

"Wonderful! How haven't I thought about this earlier! But if I am going to work on that, as you suggest, I need silence and space," he said, moving to walk out of the kitchen. He stopped at the door for a few seconds. "I think it will be best if you go back to living in your bookshop for a while."

Aziraphale stared at his back in disbelief. 

"You don't want me to help you?"

Crowley's shoulders tensed just a little bit, but after six thousand years of knowing each other Aziraphale could easily pick up on it. He knew that the demon has made his choice before he even spoke.

"I believe there is nothing you can do here. I'm sorry angel."

***

By next Friday he has been living in his bookshop for a week, and during that time he hasn't heard a word from Crowley. He tried calling both of his numbers, but eventually got sick of "It's Crowley here, you know what to do, do it with style'", and decided to give him the space he wanted.

He started feeling terribly lonely after about ten days without seeing the demon, which was somehow weird, considering that during this six thousand years there were periods where they didn't meet for as long as a whole century. Now it all seemed different though. They have never avoided each other on purpose, beacuse of an argument. Aziraphale remembered how on the day before he witnessed Crowley's breakdown he thought his bookshop was more cozy and inviting than the apartment they lived in. He didn't feel the same way anymore, the place was kind of... lifeless. There was no one who would cook in the morning, obnoxiously sing Queen songs in the showers, or fall asleep on his shoulder. There was no Crowley. 

Aziraphale decided that if Crowley didn't reach out to him until the end of the week, he would pay him a visit and try to apologise. They didn't have anything other than their friendship after all, not since they stopped the Armageddon, so they had to stick together.

***

Crowley didn't reach out to him, which hurt him a little more than it probably should, but he kept his inner promise and walked straight to the demon's apartment on a Monday morning. There was a storm outside, but he almost didn't feel the rain hitting his face; he just wanted to get over with their argument, no matter how much effort it took.

When he finally knocked on Crowley's (their?) door, his clothes were completely soaked and he could barely see through the water dripping from his hair. He heard light footsteps and the door opened, revealing visibly annoyed Crowley.

"For Satan's sake, what are you doing here?" he hissed, but stepped aside to let Aziraphale in. "You have to get changed, don't make my floor too wet."

He shook his head and lead the angel into the kitchen, disappearing for a few minutes and coming back with some black clothes in his arms. Aziraphale opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Crowley threw them onto his lap and muttered:

"I found a jumper that should fit you, leave your clothes on the washing machine after you take them off. I'm going to make tea."

"Crowley..."

"Go Aziraphale, please," the demon said, almost pleadingly. 

Aziraphale sighed and nodded. He tried to change his clothes as quickly as possible - he could have just done a little miracle and dry them out, but he didn't want to use magic in front of Crowley who still struggled with his own abilities. The jumper was slightly too large on him and the pants Crowley gave him ended way below his ankles, but he felt more comfortable than ever. He could still smell the demon's aftershave on the fabric.  
He went straight into the leaving room, expecting Crowley to be there and it turned out he was right. He was sitting on the leather couch, two cups filled with hot tea waiting on the table. 

"You look ridiculous, angel," he stated, but his voice lacked any venom. If anything, he sounded exhausted. "Why did you come here?"

Aziraphale sat down next to him, close enough for their thighs to touch.

"I wanted to apologise to you, obviously," he paused, unsure if he should continue. "You haven't spoken to me in two weeks, Crowley, I miss you."

The demon shifted, turning his head to look at him. There was a long silence, but neither of them tried to break it. Finally Crowley whispered:

"I forgive you, but I don't think it's a good idea for you to come back to living here."

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows.

"What? Why not?"

"Look, we clearly don't want the same things, so it's better that way. You have your bookshop, and I can focus on gaining my power back."

"We don't want the same things? Tell me what you want then! Sometimes I don't bloody understand you, Crowley!"

Crowley glared at him, ghostly pale with fury and weariness. Aziraphale could literally feel his leg twitching next to his own.

"I have told you so many times, but you are not listening," he hissed. "You should really go now."

"Stop giving me orders! Why can't you just accept my help? Is that because I didn't say anything when you told me you care about me?"

Crowley's eyes widened. He wordlessly pointed at the door, almost knocking his mug from the table, but Aziraphale refused to let it go like that.

"I didn't think you need my words to confirm something like that! I have cared about you for six thousand years, Crowley, I want to help you, but you have to let me."

"You know what I meant angel, don't be stupid," the demon spat out, leaning towards him. "I don't just care about you."

Aziraphale froze watching Crowley lick his lips unconsciously, an angry frown still on his face. 

"Am I understanding you correctly?" he whispered, leaning down so their faces were on the same level. Crowley didn't respond, but his breath hitched abruptly, and that was all Aziraphale needed to kiss him.

He had never kissed anyone in his life; he wasn't sure if he was doing it right, but Crowley immediately responded and then he stopped thinking at all. Crowley's lips were slim and delicate, they also tasted like heavily sweetened coffee, and a sudden rush of heat flooded Aziraphale's chest. They pulled back for a few seconds, panting into each other's mouths, and Crowley carefully put his hand on the back of the angel's neck, stroking his curls that were still wet from the rain.

"I believe you are."

They kissed again, this time less desperate, lips moving a little timidly since it was all new to both of them. Aziraphale let out a surprised groan when Crowley gently bit his lower lip before drawing back. 

"Do you really mean it?" the demon muttered, his hand dropping from Aziraphale's neck. "You are not doing it because you think that's what I want?"

He was so absurd that the angel could only silence him with another kiss.

***

A few hours later, when they were lying on the couch under Aziraphale's blanket and listening to some classical music, Crowley asked: 

"Do you think it's possible my power might be back?"

The angel stopped stroking his back for a moment, presumably thinking about the answer.

"There is only one way to find out... Why do you suddenly think it could be back though? Did you miracle something?"

"No, but I feel weird," the demon admitted, furrowing his eyebrows. "Sort of warm inside."

He snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. Aziraphale's arms tightened around him, steady and comforting.

"It's fine, alright? Now I'm here, I could help you with the training."

Crowley nodded, relaxing in the angel's embrace. There really was no rush, they had an eternity to spare.

**Author's Note:**

> My second Good Omens fanfiction, can I get a wahoo? In all seriousness, this was originally way shorter and a pure fluff, but I didn't like it, so I worked on it for another couple of hours and here you go. I wouldn't be myself if there wasn't some angst and Crowley wasn't a sad idiot, I JUST HAD TO MAKE IT LONGER.
> 
> I have read the 'Good Omens' book recently, and I truly loved it! The only thing I would have changed is that there was far less developement when it came to Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship than in the TV series, but I guess it makes the series even better as we can see more of that stuff in it. Also Crowley is fucking fabulous. 
> 
> As always, visit my tumblr @thechemicalgirl, I post stuff about Good Omens and other books and TV shows, and I hope you enjoyed my work! If you did, leave something behind (comments are my absolute favourite thing ever, won't lie).


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